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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695038">It’s My (Christmas) Party and I’ll Panic if I Want To</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin'>DelilahMcMuffin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Meet the Brewers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Christmas, Christmas Party, Coming Out, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, David Rose is a Good Person, David Rose is a Nice Person, Episode: s04e13 Merry Christmas Johnny Rose, Episode: s05e11 Meet the Parents, Fake not-boyfriends?, Family, Light Angst, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Panic Attacks, Winter in Schitt's Creek, canon divergence as of 4.12 Merry Christmas Johnny Rose, mashup of Merry Christmas Johnny Rose and Meet the Parents, what’s the opposite of “fake boyfriends”?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:03:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas Eve and David wants nothing more than to spend the evening in Patrick’s room at Ray’s engaging in the kinds of activities that will get them on Santa’s Naughty List. But his dad has decided that he wants to throw a last minute Christmas party. And to top it all off, Patrick’s parents have shown up unexpectedly to surprise their son for the holidays. </p><p>Oh, and in case that wasn’t enough, David discovers that Patrick has been keeping a pretty big secret.</p><p><em>Or:</em> What happens when you take <em>Merry Christmas, Johnny Rose</em> and <em>Meet the Parents</em> and smoosh them together? Guess we’ll find out!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Meet the Brewers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It’s My (Christmas) Party and I’ll Panic if I Want To</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020">SCFrozenOver2020</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <em>Prompt:</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Brewers unexpectedly arrive at Schitt's Creek when Patrick decides not to visit in his first year (so before he is out to them), how does the festive atmosphere from <em>Merry Christmas, Johnny Rose</em> change with the addition of Patrick's family?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>🎄🎄🎄</p><p><br/>
<br/>
David started the day off with an eye roll and a huff at his dad’s insistence that the entire family drop everything they had planned for the evening to organize a spur-of-the-moment Christmas Eve party. He’d told David he was in charge of decorations, <span class="s1">as if he’s <em>Santa Fucking Claus</em> and he has a Christmas miracle hidden up his holly jolly sleeves. <em>Like he would ever be caught dead in red velveteen. </em></span></p><p>And now his boyfriend and his best friend are mocking him and his mood boards, and David wants nothing more than to crawl into the back room and let himself devolve into a full blown pout. </p><p>But David Rose is nothing if not professional, and he has a store to run. And apparently a dismal motel room to decorate. So his pouting will have to wait for later, when he and Patrick are alone in Patrick’s room and Patrick can distract him with the kinds of things that will definitely get them a place in the top five of Santa’s Naughty List. David sends a silent <em>thank you</em> out into the universe that Ray will be spending Christmas with his sister in Elm Glen.</p><p>He narrows his eyes at Stevie as she carries the second crate of wine out to her car. He’s standing by the door placing the last of the little silver and gold boxes of ornaments (which look <em> amazing </em> in the displays he created, thanks to his mood boards. David makes a mental note to rub <em> that </em> little fact in Patrick’s face at the earliest opportunity) on the shelf when the door opens and a middle aged couple step tentatively into the store.</p><p>David’s never seen them before. Probably some townie’s family visiting for the holidays. There’s something familiar about them, though David can’t quite place it.</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” he says in his most charming customer service voice. “Welcome to Rose Apothecary.”</p><p>The couple turn to him and wide smiles of recognition spread across their faces, which is weird. Because again, David’s pretty sure he’s never seen these two people before in his life.</p><p>“Oh my goodness! You must be David!” the woman says, which takes David aback. He can’t remember anyone <em> ever </em> being quite so enthused about meeting him. At least not since his dad cut up his Amex Centurion Card <em> while making David watch. </em> Still, there’s something about her voice. Maybe they’ve spoken on the phone? </p><p>And then it hits him. She sounds <em> exactly </em> like Patrick’s—</p><p>“Mom?” Patrick appears at his side, his expression a mix of wonder and surprise and...fear? David frowns. That can’t be right. Patrick had like, literally <em> just </em> told him that he wished he could see his family for the holidays. “Oh my God, Dad? Wh-what are you doing here?”</p><p>David takes a step back and watches as Patrick gets sandwiched in a hug between both his parents. David isn't much of a hugger himself, but even he has to admit that Mr. and Mrs. Brewer look like they give good hugs.</p><p>“What is happening?! I thought you guys were visiting family out of town!” Patrick says, his voice choked with emotion. And, okay. David isn’t a <em> monster. </em> He can admit that he gets a little something that might possibly be a <em> feeling </em>welling up inside of him while watching his usually very calm and collected boyfriend get just a little bit weepy upon seeing his parents for the first time in almost a year.</p><p>“Well, we <em> are </em> out of town,” Mr. Brewer chuckles, as he pats his son on the back, beaming. “And you <em> are </em> family.”</p><p>“When you said you couldn’t come home because the store was too busy, well,” Mrs. Brewer smiles up at Patrick and pats his cheek affectionately. “We decided right then and there that we couldn’t let you spend your first Christmas away from home all by yourself!”</p><p>Something in David’s stomach twists. That wasn’t...that’s not what Patrick had told him when David asked why he wasn’t going to see his family over the holidays. </p><p>
  <em> My parents are going to Thunder Bay to visit my Aunt Laura and her family. It’s way too far for me to go, David. It’s fine. I’d rather stay here with you than spend all of Christmas Eve driving there and all of Boxing Day driving home. </em>
</p><p>Patrick keeps shooting wary little glances in David’s direction, like he’s watching a live feed of David’s brain as he clumsily tries to piece things together. </p><p>“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Patrick’s mom says, smiling at David once again. </p><p>Patrick lets out a nervous little chuckle, then he gestures to his parents. “Uh, David? These are my parents, Marcy and Clint Brewer.” David reaches out to shake their hands and finds himself pulled off balance into Marcy’s arms for a hug that he didn’t sign up for, but actually, is just as nice as he’d imagined. Clint pats him on the back, just as he had done to Patrick and smiles a big, broad, friendly smile. “Mom and Dad, this is David, my...he’s my...uh, my b...b...“</p><p>David sees the anxiety spark in Patrick’s eyes when he looks between David and his parents and suddenly everything slides into place.</p><p>
  <em> Patrick isn’t out. </em>
</p><p>His parents don’t know about him. About <em>them</em>. David can sense the word “boyfriend”, perched on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, but it won’t come. And David realizes he doesn’t want it to, not like this. Not with Patrick backed into a corner by his parents’ unexpected arrival. </p><p>So he pushes down the hurt, the needling and familiar feeling of being kept a secret—because David has been a secret before. More times than his pride will allow him to count—and he looks past the sting of this <em> thing </em> Patrick has kept from him for the better part of a year and sees the man he loves looking to him with pleading, terrified eyes.</p><p>“Business partner,” he says, cutting off Patrick’s flustered attempt to find the words to describe who David is to him. He plasters on what he hopes is his most winning smile. “I’m Patrick’s business partner, David Rose. It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person, Mr. and Mrs. Brewer.”</p><p>The look of pure relief Patrick gives him hurts a little, maybe more than it should. It digs in deep, right between David’s ribs, and twists. </p><p>“Oh, David. It’s wonderful to finally get to meet you too!” Marcy says, and to his surprise, David finds that he believes her. </p><p>“Would you mind if I borrowed your son for just a moment?” David says, reaching for Patrick’s hand, then thinking better of it and taking him by the elbow instead. “Just some important <em>business partner</em> things to talk about.” He guides Patrick toward the front counter, and <em>Jesus. Is he still talking? </em>“You know, business things that partners—<em>business</em> partners, I mean—have to talk about. When they run a business. Together. As partners.” <em>Oh God, s</em><em>hut up! Shut up! Shut! Up! </em>“So just, you know, have a look around the store. Patrick can give you the grand tour in just a sex. <em>Sec!</em> In just a sec! He’ll come right out. I mean, he won’t <em>come</em> <em>out, </em>just out of the back room. Where we need to talk. For just a sec.”</p><p>As soon as the curtain closes behind them, David lets out a groan and slaps his palms against his forehead. That was the longest and most painful fifteen seconds of his entire life. His eyes go to Patrick who is standing beside the desk with his head down, rubbing at the back of his neck and shifting from foot to foot like he does when he’s nervous or agitated.</p><p>“So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that your parents don’t know about me,” David says, keeping his tone as light as he possibly can. “About <em>us</em>. Right?” He takes a cautious step toward Patrick, who looks like he’s about to bolt straight through the wall, leaving behind a Patrick-shaped hole on his way out.</p><p>Patrick looks up at him, his golden brown eyes flooding with tears. “I’m so sorry, David. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Something deep inside David kicks in, some sort of nurturing instinct that feels both completely alien to him, while also feeling like the most natural thing in the world when it comes to Patrick. He opens his arms and Patrick launches himself into his embrace, burying his face against David’s chest and wrapping him up tight around the waist. David nestles his face into the crook of Patrick’s neck and holds him close, murmuring words of affirmation and love as Patrick trembles in his arms.</p><p>“It’s okay. You’re okay,” David whispers when Patrick finally seems to be running out of steam. He’s sort of slumped against David, who is starting to strain at holding the both of them upright. He really does have to start going to the gym more often. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”</p><p>He leads Patrick over to the desk and sits him down on the high-backed wooden chair. David grabs a bottle of water from their stock shelf and twists off the lid, handing it to Patrick. Then he perches on the edge of the desk and watches his boyfriend as he slowly drains the entire bottle.</p><p>Patrick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and twists the lid back on. He puts the bottle on the desk, then picks it up again, tossing it toward the blue recycling bin in the corner and missing. When he moves as if to get up and retrieve it, David has had enough.</p><p>
  <em>“Patrick!” </em>
</p><p>Patrick drops back into his chair and looks up at David with those ridiculously loud eyes of his, his meagre brows creased and his mouth turned down in a frown.</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to tell them. I really have,” he says, his voice a little shaky. A little tight. He clears his throat and swallows, and David waits. “I just was waiting to do it in person. I was going to do it over Christmas, but then my mom said the whole family was going to be there and I...I just…” Patrick closes his eyes and something that sounds like a whimper escapes his throat. “I panicked and said I couldn’t come.”</p><p>David bites at his lower lip and nods. “Okay.”</p><p>“David, I know my parents are good people,” Patrick says, the words coming out in a rush. “I just…” He makes a soft, strangled sound in the back of his throat. “I can’t shake this fear that…that there’s a small chance that this could change everything. That they might see me differently, or treat me differently.”</p><p>“Oh, honey,” David murmurs. He rubs his hand soothingly between Patrick’s shoulders.</p><p>“I promised myself that I would take care of this the next time I saw them.” He ducks his head to avoid David’s gaze, but David can still see it written in the furrowed lines of Patrick’s forehead, in the tremble of his lower lip and the tears gathering on his lashes.</p><p>
  <em> Patrick isn’t ready. </em>
</p><p>David drops to his knees at Patrick’s feet, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. “What you’re going through is very personal,” he says, his thumb stroking lovingly along Patrick’s jawline. “It’s something you should only do on your terms, okay?” Patrick nods, but he still looks miserable, and yeah okay. So today has kind of sucked. But Patrick’s parents are here; they’ve come all this way just to see their son. And it’s fucking Christmas, for Christ’s sake. “That’s why I brought this couple home one day in college and just told my parents to deal with it,” he says, feeling a little spark of pride at the tiny smile Patrick directs his way.</p><p>“I’ll tell them today, David. I promise,” Patrick says, but his voice is so small, so timid. It lacks all the confidence and self-assuredness that David is used to hearing in his voice. It’s a far cry from <em>I’m gonna get the money</em>.</p><p>“You don’t have to, Patrick. It’s okay,” David assures him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “If...I mean, I could be just your business partner while they’re here. If it would help.”</p><p>Patrick looks at David like he’s either completely insane or his own personal saviour. Either way, he’s looking at David like he can’t quite believe he’s real.</p><p>“I can’t ask you to do that, David.”</p><p>“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” This is either the best or the worst decision David has ever made in his life. Probably both. He feels very protective of Patrick in this moment. He wants him to be able to come out in his own way, in his own time. But also, he knows his own limitations. He may have inherited his mother’s flair for the dramatic, but his ability to carry off an elaborate lie is minuscule at best. At worst? This could turn into a fucking disaster.</p><p>“Thank you, David,” Patrick breathes, and David’s heart breaks just a little. He did offer, and he’d meant it. But a tiny part of him had hoped that Patrick would say no, would say he wanted his parents to know about them <em>right now</em>. </p><p>“Okay,” David says, getting to his feet and wincing at the cracking noises coming from his knees. “Um, so I have to go. To the motel to, you know...the party. So. I’m just gonna...I’m gonna go.”</p><p>He’s turning, his hand poised to push aside the curtain, when Patrick calls his name.</p><p>“David?”</p><p>A tiny thrill of hope skitters up David’s spine. He turns to see Patrick standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes so loud they’re probably audible from space. “I love you.”</p><p>David smiles, because what else is he supposed to do? “I love you too, Patrick,” he whispers. “Now go show off our store to your parents. I’ll see you later.”</p><p>“See you later,” Patrick says. “Partner.”</p><p>“Partner,” David echoes, then he pushes aside the curtain, grabbing his coat and bag from beneath the cash register and rushing out the door before Patrick can see the tears in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>🎄🎄🎄</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“It’s around here somewhere,” Stevie says, shoving aside a few boxes in her search for her grandmother’s Christmas decorations. “I feel like I should warn you to lower your expectations. Like way down. Like sub-basement level.” She turns to look at David over her shoulder when he doesn’t protest or come back at her with a snarky retort. He looks up at her and shrugs.</p><p>“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”</p><p>Honestly, he can’t bring himself to care all that much. His mind is fully engaged elsewhere and his dad’s sad little party that no one is going to come to is not at the top of his priority list. As long as there are some lights and some mildly festive ornaments in that box, he’s pretty sure he can make it work. He’s done more with less. </p><p>Stevie makes some kind of vaguely disgruntled noise at him before she utters a triumphant “aha!” and crosses the room, setting the box down on top of a stack of old furniture that looks like it’s seen better days.</p><p>“What is up with you?” she asks with a frown. </p><p>David shakes his head, aiming for nonchalance. “What makes you think something’s up? I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Judging by the raised eyebrow and the pursed lips Stevie is giving him, he’s pretty sure he lands somewhere closer to <em>chalance, </em>whatever that means. </p><p>“David, you are a <em>terrible </em>liar,” she says, resting her elbows on the tattered old box marked <em>Decorations. </em>“You were practically in tears when you got in my car and you haven’t said a word since we left the store. You didn’t even complain when I dragged you up to this dusty old storage room that’s probably crawling with moths and spiders and bugs with milky exoskeletons.” </p><p>David shoots up from the old desk he’d been leaning against, wiping his hands over the seat of his pants to get rid of any lingering dust and discreetly checking for moths and spiders. Seeing none, he turns back to Stevie. “Can we not talk about this here? Now that you’ve mentioned all those horrible creatures they’re all I can think about and I’m feeling very suffocated.” He tugs at the collar of his Saint Laurent sweater. “Is it warm in here? It feels warm in here.”</p><p>Stevie rolls her eyes and shoves the box at him, pushing him toward the door and out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. She closes and locks the door behind them, and follows him down into the office where Roland looks up at them from behind the counter.</p><p>“And what were you two getting up to upstairs?” he asks with a lascivious wink that makes David wish he hadn’t had that tuna melt for lunch. </p><p>“Looking for Nana Budd’s old Christmas decorations,” Stevie says, gesturing to the box in David’s hands.</p><p>“Uh huh. Sure,” Roland says. He grins at David. “Don’t worry Dave. I won’t say a word to Pat.” </p><p>David can feel his mouth contorting into a grimace. He catches it at the last second and tries to turn it into the cringing smile he specifically reserves for Roland. “Thanks,” he says quietly.</p><p>“Oh, and Dave,” Roland calls out just as he and Stevie reach the door. “I hope I’m not spoiling a secret when I mention that a very nice couple checked in earlier. Said their last name was Brewer.” He winks again. “Figured you’d want a heads up. Give you a chance to make yourself presentable. You only get one chance to make a good first impression with the in-laws.” He sucks his teeth and waggles his eyebrows unappealingly.</p><p>David’s stomach twists. He definitely should not have had the tuna. He nods at Roland, then turns and bumps into Stevie who is standing in the doorway looking at him like things are starting to make sense in her mind. “Can you please move? <em>Move!” </em>Stevie steps aside and David rushes past her down the walkway toward his room. He can hear her behind him and he gets to the door, awkwardly holding the box with one arm and trying to dig his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. The keys fumble in his fingers and he drops them. With a groan of frustration he thunks his forehead against the door. “Fuck,” he whispers. “<em>Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”</em></p><p>He hears Stevie come up behind him. Hears the jingle of his keys as she picks them up off the ground. He waits, expecting the click of his key sliding into the lock. Instead he listens as Stevie’s footfalls move further away, down the walkway. He looks up and she pauses outside of the last room. The Honeymoon Suite. She pulls a heavy set of keys from her pocket and opens the door, gesturing for him to join her. </p><p>When he crunches his way down the walkway and peers through the open door, Stevie is diving into the back of the closet, rummaging around for something. She emerges with a bottle in hand and grins at him. “I was saving this for New Year’s Eve, but you look like you could use it now.”</p><p>“Twelve bottles of wine not enough for you?” David asks waspishly as he plunks the box down on the dresser. He waits while Stevie retrieves glasses from the bathroom. He eyes the bed. The red satin coverlet looks relatively clean. He certainly hasn’t used it recently. He vaguely wonders if Stevie ever brought Jake here. Then he wonders why he never thought to bring Patrick. He looks up at the ceiling, his own face reflecting back at him. <em>Right. That’s why. </em></p><p>He sits gingerly on the edge of the bed and as soon as Stevie hands him his glass, he tips his head back and downs it all in one long swallow. He doesn’t care what it is. Honestly, it could be paint thinner and he’d be grateful. Without a word, he holds out his glass and Stevie refills it. He sips at it this time, and it’s...well, it’s awful, whatever it is. But it’s doing its job and making him feel a little less like he wants to peel off his skin.</p><p>“So,” Stevie begins, her tone conversational, “Patrick’s parents are in town.”</p><p>“Yup,” David says before taking another cautious sip and wincing as it burns all the way down. </p><p>“And this is unexpected.” It’s not a question, but David answers anyway.</p><p>“Yup.” Another sip. Less wincing this time.</p><p>“And this is...is this a problem? For you?”</p><p><em>Fuck it, </em>David thinks. He chugs the rest of his drink back and gasps as it scorches his throat. He can feel it in his stomach now. He really, <em>really </em>should not have had the tuna. “It’s only a problem insofar as his parents don’t know that he’s gay, they don’t know that we’re together, and I’ve just agreed to pretend to be nothing more than his business partner while they’re here.”</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye he can see the shocked expression on Stevie’s face. “Actually that last one was my idea.”</p><p><em>“What?!” </em>Stevie shakes her head, then slams her entire drink in one gulp. “David, what...why?! Why would you do that?”</p><p>David throws his hands in the air and waves them around for good measure. “I don’t know!!” he shouts, getting to his feet. He puts his glass down on the top of the dresser and paces around the room. “I...his parents showed up and he...he looked at me with those big stupid eyes of his. Except they weren’t all lovey-dovey or whatever the fuck you call them—“</p><p>“Heart eyes,” Stevie offers helpfully and David glares at her so ferociously that she actually shrinks back. “Sorry. You were saying?”</p><p>“They were...he was scared, Stevie. I’ve never seen him scared before. Not like that. And it scared me! And when I realized <em>why </em>he was scared...<em>fuck!” </em>He throws himself down onto the bed, landing on his back and staring up at his reflection again. “Oh God, ew!” he grumbles, rolling onto his side and curling up in the fetal position. Maybe if he stays here, curled up on this faux-sateen bedspread in this horror-show of a room for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he won’t have to deal with any of this; his dad can throw his disaster of a party and he won’t have to pretend he’s not stupidly in love with Patrick Brewer. </p><p>He feels the mattress dip behind him and then Stevie’s hand is on his shoulder. “I love him, Stevie. And I can’t...if he’s not ready, I have to support him. I <em>want </em>to support him. I just—“ he sucks in a shaky breath. “I just wish he’d told me. I was so <em>blindsided,” </em>he says. “I mean, I’ve been talking to them on the phone for months, Stevie. <em>Months!” </em>A horrifying thought occurs to him. “Oh my God! What if I’d accidentally <em>outed</em> him? Oh Jesus!”</p><p>“Right. But you didn’t,” Stevie points out all logical and annoying and<em> when the hell did she become the level-headed and reasonable one in their friendship? He wasn’t aware their particular pairing had one of those.</em> </p><p>“I know, but I could have! Instead I spent all that time thinking that they <em>liked</em> me, that they liked <em>us, </em>when all along they thought they were just talking to his business partner.” His chest hurts and his stomach hurts and his head is pounding and this is <em>not</em> the romantic and sexy Christmas he’d been looking forward to.</p><p>He feels Stevie shift and then her arm is wrapping around him and she’s spooning up behind him. “That really fucking sucks,” she murmurs. “Have you talked to him? About why he didn’t tell you?”</p><p>David rolls his eyes and fresh tears blur his vision. He knows that she already knows the answer. But he says it out loud anyway. “No.”</p><p>“Are you going to?”</p><p>He sniffles and shrugs as best he can while lying on his side. “I mean, eventually? But I can’t...not while his parents are here.” He rolls onto his back, carefully averting his eyes from the mirror and turning his head to look at Stevie. “You should have seen them, Stevie. They were all so happy to see each other! I don’t want to ruin that for him.”</p><p>Stevie’s face is doing something weird, and it takes David a minute to realize that the look she’s giving him is sympathy, which is just gross. But also, it’s kind of nice. </p><p>“How can I help?” she asks. </p><p>“I don’t know,” David replies, because he doesn’t even know what <em>he’s </em>going to do. He’s in no position to go around handing out jobs to other people. </p><p>“I can help you with your dad’s party,” she offers. “And we can go from there.”</p><p>“Ugh. You realize this party is going to be a disaster, right? You might not want to be associated with it,” he says, sitting up and looking despondently over at the dilapidated box on the dresser. </p><p>“Well. At least there will be wine,” Stevie says helpfully. “So it won’t be all bad.”</p><p> </p><p>🎄🎄🎄</p><p> </p><p>David has never seen his dad so angry, and as the door slams behind his father in the throes of a rant about meatloaf, David knows it’s his fault. Well, his and Alexis’s. Also, his mother’s level of apathy at the entire situation has reached levels David’s not seen since the days when she could afford to pump herself full of pills, which definitely isn’t helping. Ray is a little to blame too, for selling his parents the most distressingly woeful looking tree David has ever seen. No amount of festive gourds or Mardi Gras beads can salvage the sad little piles of dismembered branches scattered all over the floor of his parents’ room.</p><p>And it’s his dad’s fault too, for laying this on them at the last minute and expecting them to pull together a fucking Christmas miracle with no time and zero budget. Even if David hadn’t burned that bridge in Ibiza, not even Nate Burkus could turn this party into anything other than a total catastrophe.</p><p>He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulls it out. David’s guilt surges up and settles in his throat when he sees the name <em>Patrick </em>flash on his call display.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He was supposed to have been back at the store about half an hour ago, and Patrick’s been there on his own on Christmas Eve, where the last minute shoppers have kept the store busy all day. And as if that isn’t enough, his parents are in town and he probably thinks David’s off having a panic spiral (a fair assumption) and has abandoned him with the store for the rest of the day.</p><p>“Hi,” David says cautiously, putting his phone to his ear and stepping into his room for what constitutes privacy in his life these days. </p><p>“Hey,” Patrick says. He sounds like he always does, so assured and calm. He doesn’t sound harried and rushed off his feet, and there’s no trace of the earlier fear and panic in his voice that had been there upon the arrival of his parents. He just sounds like Patrick. “How’s it going at party central? You have everything under control?”</p><p>David thinks about the tangled knot of Mardi Gras beads and the charmingly war-torn tree and lets out something he hopes sounds like a laugh, but probably sounds more like a sob.</p><p>“Um, it’s...things are good. I’m good. We’re all good,” he says haltingly. <em>He really is a terrible liar.</em> </p><p>“David, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing! Why would you...everything is fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine here. How are you?” </p><p>There’s silence on the other end of the line and David knows that Patrick is doing that thing he does, where he tries to out-wait David and trick him into saying more than he wants to. And while the competitive part of David wants to beat Patrick at his own game, he just doesn’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to pull it off. Not today.</p><p>“Okay, so like, maybe things aren’t great. Stevie grossly oversold the quality of her grandmother’s decorations. And Alexis hasn’t even invited anyone to this fucking party, so I don’t know why Dad got so bent out of shape about the lack of decorations, because there isn’t going to be anybody here to see them. Or not see them. Or...you know what I mean. And now he’s just stormed off to the café for meatloaf night—“</p><p>“But that was yesterday,” Patrick interjects.</p><p>“Exactly! So everything is wrong and I don't know what to do, and I've basically ruined Christmas for my whole family, and I—“</p><p>“Baby? Breathe.”</p><p>“I am breathing,” David replies, letting out a heaving breath because apparently he <em>hadn’t </em>been breathing. </p><p>“Well breathe better, then.” He can hear the concern layered beneath the fond chuckle in Patrick’s voice. </p><p>David takes a few deep and slightly exaggerated breaths—for Patrick’s sake, of course. But also because he’s on the verge of feeling light-headed. He lays down on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he breathes in through his nose and out with a whoosh through his mouth. </p><p>“There you go,” Patrick’s voice intones soothingly in his ear. “Better?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“So were you planning on coming back to work anytime today, or…” David can hear the teasing lilt in Patrick’s voice, but the note of concern is still there, lurking just below the surface.</p><p>“Yes. Yup. I am on my way.”</p><p>“It’s just...you left pretty suddenly. And I thought maybe...well. I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”</p><p>“I’m…” David clears his throat. “No, I’m okay. Just wanted to get an early start on disappointing my father in time for Christmas.” He laughs, but it feels forced and a little hollow. “How about your parents? Are they still with you at the store?”</p><p>“No. I gave them the tour and they were appropriately complimentary about each and every little thing, even when I tried to tell them that this was all you. I don’t know if I managed to convince them.”</p><p>“You deserve to let your parents be proud of you, Patrick,” David says, knowing full well how hard it can be to get his boyfriend to accept a compliment, no matter how deserving. “And maybe they deserve it too. You haven’t seen them in a long time. They have almost a full year of fawning over you to get out of their systems in only a few days.”</p><p>Patrick huffs out a laugh. “You’re not wrong,” he says. “It was a lot of fawning.”</p><p>“So you gave them the tour, and sent them off alone into the wilds of Schitt’s Creek? Alone and unsupervised?”</p><p>He hears Patrick laugh. “I think they’ll be fine, David. They’re perfectly capable of fending for themselves,” he says. “They drove through lunch and my mom was getting a little hangry so I sent them to the café about twenty minutes ago.”</p><p>David smiles. He has a hard time picturing Patrick’s mom being anything other than perfectly charming. “Mkay, well I’m coming to the store now. I’ll see you soon.”</p><p>“Okay, David.”</p><p>David sits up and slips his phone back into his pocket. “I’m going out!” he shouts to anyone that might be listening. </p><p>Alexis pokes her head into the room. “Um, and what are we supposed to do while you’re gone? You have to help us get rid of this tree! If it’s still here when Dad gets back it’s just going to make him sad again.”</p><p>“Ugh, I have a <em>job, </em>Alexis? Remember? The business that I run with my boyf—“ He cuts himself off with a correction, “—partner?”</p><p>If Alexis notices his slip of the tongue, she doesn’t mention it. Just rolls her eyes and stomps back into his parents bedroom. David gets up and grabs his black knee-length Burberry coat with the signature lining and slides it on, wrapping a grey cashmere scarf around his neck. He checks that he has his wallet and keys and phone and steps out into the blustery winter weather. </p><p>As he trudges toward the store with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat—he definitely should have grabbed his gloves—he thinks about his dad and the Christmas party and why it’s so important to him. It’s not like they ever spent any time together at the parties they used to throw. Sure, his parents would circle the room, arm in arm, greeting guests and schmoozing. But he and Alexis were always just trotted out to do their parts. David did <em>The Number </em>with his mom and Alexis flipped the switch at the start of the night to light up the tree. But then they were expected to disappear into the crowd and not pull focus from their mother or bother any of their father’s business associates. </p><p>By the end of the night David had usually ensconced himself in the kitchen where he could stuff his face in private and Alexis had inevitably taken off with whatever foreign dignitary or oil tycoon’s son that had captured her attention that night.</p><p>The parties were big and fancy and kind of fun. Except that they really weren't. Looking back, David realizes they were actually kind of lonely and completely impersonal. All flash and no substance. </p><p><em>Just like us, </em>he thinks in a moment of clarity. It must be the freezing wind nipping at the tips of his ears, or maybe it’s the snow quickly seeping into his boots. Whatever the cause, he can now see those parties for what they were: a hollow extravaganza that celebrated their wealth, but not their family.</p><p>Well, they don’t have their wealth anymore. They only have each other. And maybe...maybe that’s what his dad wants from this party. Maybe that’s why it’s so important to him. They’ve had so little to celebrate since they landed in this town. Maybe it’s time they start to celebrate each other, and the friends they’ve made here. The life each of them is building.</p><p>He’s so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past the store, and it’s only Patrick shouting his name and grabbing him by the back of his coat that keeps him from walking off the sidewalk and into traffic. </p><p>“Whoa! You okay?” Patrick’s hands are on his shoulders now and he’s looking worriedly at David with an absolutely adorable little furrow between his wispy little brows. </p><p>“Yeah. I’m fine, I was just thinking and I—“ He cuts himself off with a gasp, realizing that Patrick is out in the snow and freezing wind in just his little sweater (which looks <em>amazing </em>on him, just like David knew it would despite the fact that it’s a far more vivid shade of blue than Patrick would have ever picked for himself) and he’s shivering and blinking snow from his eyelashes and he’s holding onto David’s arms so tightly that it kind of hurts, but in a good way. In a <em>Patrick-doesn’t-want-me-to-walk-into-traffic-so-he-ran-outside-in-his-flimsy-little-shirt-to-save-me </em>kind of way.</p><p>“Jesus, David. You scared me!” And then Patrick’s hugging him and he uses his nose to push David’s scarf out of the way so he can kiss his neck, just below his ear. Right where it makes David’s knees go weak.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” David murmurs into Patrick’s shoulder. “I was thinking and I wasn't paying attention.” He feels Patrick shudder against him and he thinks it’s mostly because of the cold, but also maybe a little because he was scared for David. When he shudders again, it’s definitely because of the cold. “Okay, we can’t have you freeze to death out here. Come on.” He manhandles Patrick along the sidewalk, up the steps and into the store where he takes his freezing hands and brings them up to his mouth, exhaling a warming breath over Patrick’s fingers. </p><p>Patrick’s watching him with a fond little upside down smile on his face. “What were you thinking about that had you attempting to stop traffic with your body?”</p><p>David blows on Patrick’s fingers again then presses a kiss to his knuckles. “My dad’s Christmas party. I think...I think we can still save it.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>we </em>can still save it?” Patrick teases, unbuttoning David’s coat and sliding his hands underneath and around to the small of David’s back. “I’m allowed to participate now?”</p><p>David ducks his head and touches the tip of his nose to Patrick’s. “You were always included,” he says softly. “I just forgot to tell you before.”</p><p>Patrick hums and slides his hands down into the back pockets of David’s jeans. “Very generous of you.”</p><p>David laughs and kisses him, just a gentle peck on the lips. He still can’t believe it’s possible to love someone as much as he loves Patrick without collapsing under the weight of it all. But he knows that even if he did collapse, Patrick would pick him up and put him back together again. He always does.</p><p>Patrick pinches his ass, laughing when David yelps and scowls at him. “What was that for?”</p><p>“That’s for scaring me. Don’t do that again, please.” </p><p>“I’ll do my best,” David promises.</p><p>“That’s all I can ask,” Patrick says. He kisses David again. “So what are <em>we </em>going to do to save your dad’s party? Dare I ask if there’s a mood board?”</p><p>David narrows his eyes at Patrick’s shit-eating grin. “There is actually. But...it’s not a new one.” He can see the confusion on Patrick’s face. “I thought maybe I could use this one.” He gestures at the decorations hung festively around their store. Patrick’s looking at him like he’s either brilliant or completely insane. To be honest, David isn’t one hundred percent sure himself. “It’s just, we’re closing in like half an hour—“</p><p>“An hour and fifteen minutes,” Patrick reminds him.</p><p>David flaps a disgruntled hand at him. “Same thing. <em>Anyway…” </em>He walks his fingers up Patrick’s arms and squeezes his shoulders. “We’re not open tomorrow, and we were going to take the decorations down before we open on the 27th anyway, so I thought maybe…”</p><p>Patrick is smiling up at him now, his eyes crinkled around the edges. “You thought we could borrow the decorations for your dad’s party, and then you’d have the added benefit of not having to come in early after Christmas?”</p><p>David really hates that Patrick knows him so well. But also, like, it’s really nice. “So?”</p><p>“I think it’s a great idea, David,” Patrick says. He kisses David’s cheek and slaps his ass under his coat, causing David to let out an undignified little squeak. “I’ll get the stepladder. You can start taking down the garland around the door.”</p><p>David shucks his coat from his shoulders and drapes it over the counter. Then he pulls his phone out and sends a text to Alexis to start putting the word out to everyone she can think of because the party is back on.</p><p>He’s removing the garland from above their front door when he looks across the street. The windows of the café are fogged up so he can’t see inside. He just hopes Twyla can keep his dad occupied for at least a couple of hours. Hopefully longer.</p><p>The door to the café opens and Marcy and Clint Brewer step out onto the little patio area, turning up their collars as the wind whips around them. David’s heart does a nervous little flip and he has to remind himself to breathe. Marcy and Clint were right across the street and he and Patrick had been so careless! They’re so used to being able to just touch and kiss all the time, and no one thinks twice about it. Or if they do, David’s never heard a word about it. </p><p>But today—the next few days—are different. Patrick’s parents are in town and they don’t know about Patrick, about him. About <em>them. </em></p><p>He feels a hand slide up under his shirt and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see Patrick looking at him with more than a little concern.</p><p>“Sorry. I thought you heard me,” he says, his hand still up inside David’s shirt. It usually feels so nice, but right now it’s making David’s skin feel itchy and too small for his body. He wiggles himself away, taking a few steps back and putting some distance between the two of them. “David? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Your parents,” David whispers, even though they’re alone in the store and the Brewers are still trudging slowly along the sidewalk. He nods his head out the window and Patrick looks too, his pale complexion going even paler. </p><p>“Right,” he breathes. “Yeah, that was a close call.” </p><p>“Too close,” David says firmly. “That can’t happen again, Patrick. I don’t want to be the reason you’re outed to your parents before you’re ready.” Patrick nods and looks like maybe he wants to cry, or maybe he just wants to kiss David. Just in case it’s the latter, David takes an extra step back. “I’m just your business partner right now, okay? Just think back to when we <em>were </em>actually just business partners and...and do that. And we’ll be fine.”</p><p>It’s terrible advice. David knows it, and he can tell Patrick knows it too. Because even when they were just business partners, there was always something more between them. They’d flirted shamelessly and there had always been that electric crackle of attraction. But it’s the best they can do for now. </p><p>Patrick ducks his head and shoves his hands so far into his pockets David is momentarily afraid he’ll never be able to get them back out again. </p><p>The tense moment between them is broken by the jingle of the bell above the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Brewer are standing there, all pink cheeked and windswept, covered in a light dusting of snow and looking for all the world like they just stepped off the front of a Christmas card.</p><p>“Oh, David!” Marcy exclaims, pulling off her gloves and stuffing them into her pockets, “You’re back! How did the planning go for your dad’s party?”</p><p>She looks genuinely interested, which is new for David. He’s used to a certain level of apathy from members of his own family. </p><p>“Oh, well. It was a complete disaster,” he says brightly. “But I’m still—<em>we’re </em>still—working on it.” </p><p>“Anything we can do to help?” Mr. Brewer asks. Again with the genuine concern. This may be something David is going to have to get used to. </p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“We’re taking down the decorations from the store,” Patrick says, climbing up on the step ladder and reaching for the garland hanging above one of the front windows, “And taking it to the motel.”</p><p>“That’s a lovely idea!” Marcy says. “And what about the tree? Do you need some ornaments? Maybe Clint and I can contribute that way.” She holds up one of the gold boxes David had stacked with such care only a few hours earlier. </p><p>David grimaces. “So about the tree…”</p><p>Patrick looks over from his place atop the ladder. “I thought your parents were getting one from Ray?”</p><p>“Yes. Well, technically they did,” David says, nestling the garland from above the door carefully in a box. “But it kind of...broke.”</p><p>“It broke?”</p><p>“Yeah. Like, a lot.” All three Brewers are looking at him now with their hands on their hips and slightly bemused expressions on their faces. It should make David uncomfortable, but it’s ridiculously cute and he has to bite his cheek to hide the overly fond smile from spreading across his face. “Like <em>a lot </em>a lot. Like right now it doesn’t even resemble a tree. We’d have to—“ David pauses, thinking.</p><p>“We’d have to what, David?” Patrick prompts when David has been quiet too long.</p><p>“Um, do you know if we have any super glue?”</p><p> </p><p>🎄🎄🎄</p><p> </p><p>The party turns out to be both a triumph and one of the most difficult nights of David’s life.</p><p>The look of pure joy on his father’s face when he enters to see the room decked out and filled with so many people from town makes David’s chest swell and his eyes water.</p><p>“Oh, David!” his dad breathes. “Is this the same tree?”</p><p>David grimaces. “Uh, theoretically. We have spent a <em>very</em> long time gluing it back together.” </p><p>“Scary amount of superglue,” Patrick supplies helpfully from beside David. </p><p>He feels Patrick’s hand at the small of his back and David tries to squirm away from his touch without drawing undue attention to himself. Not an easy feat when one is wearing a beglittered silver sweater in a room full of plaid flannel.</p><p>Handing Stevie the tray of tinsel he’d been holding while looking for any gaps in the tree where the glue is showing, David plants himself firmly on the other side of the room. It’s only twelve feet away, but it might as well be an ocean that stands between him and Patrick. Well, an ocean and a dessert tray.</p><p>And that is the difficult part about tonight. While David had planned to spend Christmas Eve snuggled up with his boyfriend, he now finds himself spending the evening trying to stay as far away from Patrick as possible. Because every time they’re close enough to touch, the urge to do so is nearly overwhelming. David wants to lean into Patrick’s hand when it’s placed on his back, wants to pull him under the sprig of mistletoe hung above the door to his room and kiss him. But he can’t. Because tonight he and Patrick are nothing more than business partners.</p><p>Honestly, he’s surprised how well their ruse is holding up. Before they’d arrived at the motel with Mr. and Mrs. Brewer in tow, David had texted Stevie a frantic plea to prepare his mother and Alexis, alerting them to the situation and asking them to play along. And she’s carried on with her task as the night has progressed, quietly explaining to each guest upon their arrival of the situation and asking them to refrain from referencing David and Patrick’s personal relationship within earshot of Mr. and Mrs. Brewer. </p><p>And it’s <em>working. </em>David has gotten a few sympathetic glances, and Ronnie has offered to take Patrick out back and <em>“teach him to treat his man right”—twice</em>—which David politely refuses and makes a mental note to ask Patrick what the fuck he did to piss Ronnie off so thoroughly.</p><p>But Mr. and Mrs. Brewer seem to be having a good time, blissfully ignorant of the subterfuge going on all around them. They’re never more than a few paces away from Patrick, eager to hear stories from his friends and neighbours about what he’s been up to since he moved to town. Patrick looks elated to introduce his parents to people, but every so often he glances over at David and his eyes go a little sad and his mouth turns down into a frown that’s actually a frown, not the upside down smile that makes David’s heart do ridiculous little backflips in his chest.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Are we out of butter tarts?” Stevie asks, handing him a glass of wine.</p><p>“What? No. What?! <em>Are </em>we out of butter tarts?” David glances anxiously at the refreshment table to check out the butter tart situation and breathes a sigh of relief. There are still at least a dozen left. He reaches over and takes one, just to be safe. “What did I ever do to deserve you? You <em>know </em>how I feel about butter tarts. They’re no laughing matter.”</p><p>“Right. Of course.” Stevie nods seriously. “So aside from the butter tarts, what's wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing. Nothing’s  wrong. It’s a lovely party, my dad is happy, everyone’s having a good time. I’m good. Everything’s good.”</p><p>“You might want to tell that to your face then,” Stevie says. David glares at her. “You have this whole resting Grinch face thing happening right now which is very intense and not at all festive.”</p><p>David can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth and he tries to fight it off. None too successfully if the look on Stevie’s face is anything to go by. </p><p>“Okay, whatever you’re doing, just stop. Resting Grinch face is so much better than whatever is happening now.”</p><p>“You know, I liked you better when you were standing somewhere that isn’t beside me,” David says, then stuffs the entire buttertart into his mouth. Stevie just laughs at him and pats his back when he chokes on the oversized bite of pastry.</p><p>Stevie leaves him to wallow alone after that, going to stand with Alexis, who is hanging all over her boyfriend like he’s a coat rack and she’s a vintage Dior trench. It’s disgusting and completely inappropriate and David desperately wants to be able to do the same with his boyfriend. </p><p>“Here. I thought you could use something to clear the old pipes after that coughing fit,” a voice says, and David turns to see Patrick’s father standing beside him holding out a flute of Zhampagne. </p><p>“Oh. You saw that?” David hopes that the low lighting and his Mediterranean complexion are enough to hide the blush he can feel rising on his cheeks. He accepts the glass and takes a sip. </p><p>“Kind of hard to miss it,” Clint says with a smile. “While the room is beautifully decorated—well done, by the way—it is still pretty small.”</p><p>David grimaces, then focuses on the Zhampagne in his hand. Clint stands quietly beside him examining his own drink. “Can I ask you a question, David?” he asks suddenly.</p><p>David looks at him, wide-eyed and with a mouthful of his less-than-palatable, barely-potable beverage. He swallows. </p><p>“Oh, um. Sure.”</p><p>Clint doesn’t say anything for a long moment, staring into his drink and frowning thoughtfully. He finally clears his throat. “Uh, I don’t know if I’m speaking out of turn here, or maybe…” He trails off and looks up at David. His eyes are so blue, so different from Patrick’s. But there’s the same warmth in them, the same steadiness. Whatever Clint wants to ask, David is sure he can handle it.</p><p>“How long have you and Patrick been together?”</p><p><em>No. Nope. </em>David was wrong. He was so, <em>so</em> wrong. He <em>cannot</em> handle this. He can feel his chest constrict as if a belt has just been cinched three notches too tight around his ribs and his stomach twists and roils and the tuna from so many hours ago is finally ready to make its triumphant reappearance.</p><p>
  <em>Oh God oh God oh God oh God.</em>
</p><p>He can feel his mouth gaping open and closed, like a fish desperate to be thrown back into the water. David wants to be thrown back to five seconds ago, before Mr. Brewer asked that question, and he wants to run away and slam the door behind him because he can’t do this. <em>He can’t do this to Patrick. </em> </p><p>“I, um, I don’t…we aren’t...but we’re not…” He’s grasping for words but they won’t come and the edges of his vision are starting to go a little fuzzy and there’s a ringing in his ears that doesn’t sound like it belongs on the festive soundtrack of tasteful holiday music he had so carefully curated.</p><p>People are starting to notice. They’re looking at him because he’s causing a scene and he <em>can’t cause a scene </em>at his father’s Christmas party in front of Patrick’s parents. </p><p>He waves at the guests, gesturing to the nearly empty tray of buttertarts and hoping that they’ll all just assume he’s choking again and leave him to die in peace. He backs slowly into his bedroom and tries to close the door behind him, but Mr. Brewer is right there looking very concerned, with his big blue eyes that are just as loud as Patrick’s and they’re l<em>ooking right through him—</em></p><p>“David—“</p><p>“I’m fine,” David gasps, sitting down on the foot of his bed and putting his head between his knees. “Fine. Just...I need a minute and I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Patrick bursts through the door, Mrs. Brewer right behind him. He’s down on his knees before David can protest, taking David’s face in his hands.</p><p>“Breathe, David,” he whispers, taking in a big breath and letting it out slowly, encouraging David to do the same. </p><p>“I...I am breathing,” David whispers between gasps.</p><p>Patrick smiles at him, and there it is, that ridiculous smile that David loves so much. “Well breathe better, then.”</p><p>David can’t help but smile weakly back at him. And he does breathe better, inhaling and exhaling along with Patrick until the tightness in his chest eases and the ringing in his ears is almost gone and the tuna has settled the fuck down in his stomach. The only thing he needs now is a kiss from his boyfriend. But Mr. and Mrs. Brewer are right there and <em>he can’t take this away from Patrick. </em>He loves him too much to make Patrick’s coming out all about him. </p><p>So he claps his hands on Patrick’s shoulders in what he hopes can be construed as a hearty and collegial gesture between friends and business partners. “Thank you, Patrick. I’m fine.”</p><p>The inverted smile on Patrick’s face is dangerously close to veering into a frown, so David plasters a smile on his own face and nods. “Really. I’ll be fine. Just got a little too enthusiastic about the butter tarts again.”</p><p>“If you’re sure,” Patrick says warily.</p><p>“I am. I’m just going to step outside I think, for some fresh air.” David gets to his feet and Patrick follows suit, still watching David closely. “Why don’t you go introduce your mom to Ronnie? I hear she’s a big fan of yours.”</p><p>Patrick narrows his eyes, but eventually turns to head back into the party, sparing David one last look over his shoulder.</p><p>Mr. Brewer is still standing by the door, hands in his pockets. <em>Like father, like son, </em>David can’t help but think. </p><p>“Mr. Brewer, would you care to join me? I, um...I’d like to carry on our conversation, if you don’t mind?”</p><p>The corner of Clint’s mouth twitches and he grabs his coat from the pile strewn across Alexis’s bed. David pulls his Burberry and his scarf from the closet and they quietly slip outside. </p><p>It’s dark now, but the wind has died down and the night is frosty and clear. The streetlights make the snow on the ground glow a brilliant white that takes David’s eyes a moment to get used to. He wanders a few doors down the walkway, putting a little distance between himself and the party going on inside. He leans up against the side of the motel and waits for Clint to join him. </p><p>“Can I ask what makes you think Patrick and I are together? I assume you mean <em>romantically </em>together.”</p><p>Clint nods and leans against the wall beside David. “I know my son,” he says after taking a long moment to collect his thoughts. “I’ve seen him happy before—or, well. I <em>thought </em>I’d seen him happy, but now I’m not so sure.” He digs a pair of gloves out of his pockets and takes a moment to tuck his hands inside. David bemoans the fact that he’s forgotten his gloves inside. <em>Again. </em>“When Marcy and I decided to come here, we expected to find the same sad, lost young man that packed up and took off out of our lives nine months ago.”</p><p>David’s heart breaks for Patrick. And his parents. All three of them are such wonderful people who clearly care very much for one another. To be apart all these long months must have been such a struggle. His heart  breaks a little for himself, too. Because Patrick hadn’t told him, hadn’t shared this part of himself with David. He hadn’t let David help or support him the way he should have been allowed to. They way he would have wanted to, if he’d known. </p><p>“We were so worried about him spending Christmas alone, we never stopped to think he might have had other plans. But when we got here and we found him so happy, so at home with you and...well. We felt a little foolish about coming all this way and taking him away from the people he has obviously grown very close to.” </p><p>David is aware that Mr. Brewer is watching him now, very closely. “I see him when he looks at you, David. And I see you when you look at him.” David closes his eyes and bites his lips, letting his head fall back against the wall. “I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re not together, maybe...maybe that’s something to think on.”</p><p>David opens his eyes and sees Mr. Brewer smiling at him. He claps a hand to David’s shoulder—so it <em>is </em>a collegial gesture then!—and turns to head back into the party.</p><p>“Mr. Brewer?” David calls out as Clint’s hand reaches for the doorknob. He turns to look back at David. “I think, maybe, you should talk to your son.”</p><p>Clint nods again, then winks at David. “I think I just might do that.”</p><p>David leans his head back against the wall again and waits. Because he knows Patrick and he knows that as soon as he sees his dad come back in from outside, he’ll be out here like a shot.</p><p>“David?”</p><p>
  <em>Like clockwork. </em>
</p><p>“Here,” David calls out, pushing himself up and away from the wall and waiting as Patrick hurries over to him, once again without his coat. “Oh my God, are you <em>trying</em> to give yourself hypothermia today?” He asks, removing his scarf from around his neck and flapping it open so it’s unfurled to its full width, then carefully wrapping it around Patrick’s shoulders. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Patrick asks. His teeth are chattering and he’s shaking like the proverbial Polaroid picture in that fucking song Alexis made him listen to <em>ad nauseam</em> for most of the early oughties.</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“Are <em>we </em>okay?”</p><p>That gets David’s attention. He frowns and pulls Patrick in for a hug, holding him close and rubbing warming hands up and down his back. “We were never not okay, Patrick.”</p><p>“I thought…I don’t know what I thought. But I saw my dad leave with you and...and…”</p><p>“And we had a chat and everything is fine,” David soothes. He reaches between them to unbutton his coat, pulling the front open and inviting Patrick in to share his warmth. </p><p>“Did you tell him...what did you tell him?” Patrick’s voice is small and a little scared again. But there’s hope in there somewhere. David is sure of it.</p><p>“I didn’t tell him anything, Patrick. That’s for you to do.”</p><p>Patrick sighs against his neck, squirming in closer and wrapping his arms around David’s waist. “Yeah. I know.”</p><p>They’re quiet for a long moment, enjoying the freedom to just touch one another again. It’s only been a day—and not even an <em>entire </em>day—but it’s been one hell of a day. </p><p>“What if they don’t react the way I think they will?” Patrick’s voice is quiet and small against David’s neck.</p><p>He kisses Pattick’s temple, letting his lips linger. “Then I’ll be here, and we’ll get through it together.” </p><p>Pulling back, Patrick tips his head back so he can look at David. “I love you,” he whispers before leaning in and pressing his lips to David’s. </p><p>“I love you,” David echoes when they pull apart. A snowflake drifts down and lands on the tip of Patrick’s nose. “Now,” David says, rubbing his nose against Patrick’s, “Whenever you’re ready, I think you should have a talk with your parents.”</p><p> </p><p>🎄🎄🎄</p><p> </p><p>So when Patrick had said he would talk to his parents, David had expected him to talk to his parents <em>eventually. </em>But what Patrick had actually meant was that he was going to talk to his parents <em>now.</em></p><p>”I want them to know, David. I owe it to us,” Patrick had said, and how the fuck was David supposed to argue with that?</p><p>Which is how David finds himself standing guard in front of the door adjoining his room with his parents, while Patrick and Mr. and Mrs. Brewer have what may be the most important conversation of their lives at the small table that stands not ten feet from David’s own twin bed. Where he and Patrick have had sex. <em>Multiple times.</em></p><p>David shifts closer to the door. He can hear the low hum of voices coming from the other side, but he can’t make out any of the words. He’s just glad that the voices sound relatively calm. In David’s experience, no shouting is a good sign.</p><p>“Everything alright in there?”</p><p>David startles at the voice that’s suddenly right in his ear and turns to see his father standing beside him, a look of what might possibly be fatherly concern deepening the lines on his face.</p><p>The voices behind the door continue at a low hum and David nods. “I think so?”</p><p>His dad smiles at him and opens his arms, making a <em>come here </em>gesture with his hands that baffles David for a moment before he realizes that his dad wants to <em>hug him. </em>Under any other circumstances, he would typically brush off his father’s offer with a cringe and an “ew, no,” but he’s feeling fragile today and before he really knows what’s happening, he’s in his father’s arms being rocked gently back and forth. And it feels really…nice.</p><p>“Stevie told me what you did for Patrick,” his dad whispers in his ear, and if David hears a little tremor in his father’s voice he chalks it up to too much Zhampagne. “That was a very selfless thing you did, David. I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>For the first time in recent memory, David doesn’t know what to say. He has no withering retort or snarky comeback. So he just tightens his arms around his dad and blinks back the tears he knows are coming.</p><p>“The Brewers seem like good people,” his dad continues, “but I want you to know that whatever happens, Patrick is very welcome here with us.”</p><p><em>Fuck. </em>How is David supposed to stay composed when his dad goes and says something like that? Johnny Rose is an impossible man in many ways. But he’s impossibly good in all the ways that count. </p><p>“Thanks, Dad,” David manages, swallowing down all the feelings that are threatening to overwhelm him. </p><p>His dad pulls back from their embrace and chucks David chummily under his chin, as if he’s an eight-year-old who just made a touchdown on the baseball rink. “Alright. Well. Merry Christmas, son,” he says.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Dad,” David whispers to his father’s retreating back.</p><p>He leans back against the door with a thunk, letting out a highly indelicate squawk when it opens behind him and he finds himself toppling backward through the doorway. But there are strong arms there to catch him, and he looks up to see Patrick smiling down at him. His face is flushed and his eyes are a little puffy. But he’s smiling, which is a good thing, right?</p><p>He gets his feet back under him and cringes in apology at Mr. and Mrs. Brewer who are watching him with something that looks an awful lot like bemused fondness on their faces.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says, flustered. “I promise I wasn’t listening. I just lost my balance and the door caught me and then <em>Patrick </em>caught me and I’m...I’m—“ <em>Babbling like an idiot, </em>his brain supplies, “—just gonna go. Back out there. T-to the party. So.” </p><p>He moves toward the doorway, but Patrick’s voice stops him in his tracks.</p><p>“Babe?”</p><p><em>Oh God. </em><em>Okay. So this is happening. They’re doing this now.</em> <em>That’s fine. It’s totally fine.</em> <em>He's prepared. He can handle this. He’s almost completely sure that he won’t freak out this time. Like 87% sure. </em></p><p>He turns to look at Patrick and he almost has to take a step back, because the sight of Patrick <em>and </em>his parents looking back at him with those same ridiculous eyes is almost more than he can take. </p><p>Completely without his permission, his legs propel him forward and he’s in Patrick’s arms, his face tucked into the safe little crook of Patrick's neck. </p><p>“I told them, David,” Patrick murmurs in his ear. “I told them and it’s okay. They don’t care that I’m gay. They just care that I’m happy.” He pulls back so he can look up into David’s face and his smile is blinding. “And they know I’m happy, David. I’m so happy with you.”</p><p>Marcy and Clint pile onto their hug, wrapping the two of them up in their acceptance and love. David thinks back to his life not so long ago—before his family came to this place—when the mere thought of being on the receiving end of this kind of embrace would have sent him running for the hills. Or looking for the catch. Because back then, people didn’t love David Rose. Not without expecting something in return. But this man...this man and these people have no expectations of him, except maybe for him to love them back. And that’s...well, it’s something David is still getting used to. But practice makes perfect, and he has the sneaking suspicion that there are going to be a lot more hugs just like this one in his near future.</p><p>After they break apart, individual hugs are doled out, and then David needs to excuse himself to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. Glancing in the mirror, he’s not surprised to see his face is ruddy and his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. But he <em>is </em>surprised to find that he doesn’t really care. Well, obviously he <em>cares </em>because he has certain aesthetic standards to uphold. But he doesn’t care as much as he normally would. Because if rosy cheeks and leaking eyes is the price he has to pay for Patrick feeling confident and comfortable enough to come out to his parents, then David will gladly pay it. </p><p>They rejoin the party just in time for the Jazzagals to serenade everyone with a rendition of <em>Silent Night </em>that tugs on David’s heartstrings a little more than it normally would. Maybe it’s because they’re out of red wine. Or maybe it’s because he’s finally able to lean back against the man he loves and accept a kiss to his cheek from his boyfriend while Mr. and Mrs. Brewer stand right beside them.</p><p>The party begins to wrap up soon after, and as guests collect their coats and bid everyone a Merry Christmas, Patrick pulls David into his arms and kisses him soundly.</p><p>“What was that for?” David whispers against Patrick’s lips.</p><p>“Because I wanted to,” Patrick replies. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “And also, you’ve been standing under the mistletoe almost all night and it’s been killing me not to be able to do that.”</p><p>David looks up at the little sprig hanging from the ceiling above his head. “Well. You’ve got lots of kissing to make up for,” he teases, adding a little shoulder shimmy just because he knows it drives Patrick wild. The look in Patrick’s eyes goes from playful to heated in an instant.</p><p>“Oh, I plan on it,” he says in his <em>I’m gonna get the money </em>voice, and right on cue, David’s knees go a little weak. “Stay with me tonight? Ray’s gone to see his sister, so we’ll have the whole house to ourselves.” He leans in and nips at David’s chin with his teeth. “And then I thought we could invite our parents over for breakfast.”</p><p>David smiles and kisses the tip of Patrick’s nose. “Make it brunch and you’ve got yourself a deal.”</p><p><br/>
—The End—</p><p><br/>
🎄🎄🎄</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Many thanks to my beta [redacted] for all the flailing and love! </p><p>Thanks to whoever posted this prompt. I really hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with.</p><p>And thanks to you, lovely readers! I hope this story has given you the warm fuzzies!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to my anonymous prompter for such a wonderful idea! I’ve had fun with this, and I hope it ticks all the boxes for you!</p><p>Thanks to NeelyO for being the best beta ever! Your constant cheerleading was exactly what I needed to get this story done.</p><p>And thanks to you, readers! Warmest regards to you all this holiday season.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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